


Day Of The Sparrow

by Esgalnen



Series: Chain Of Spies [2]
Category: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea
Genre: Blood and Injury, Burns, Courage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rescue, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esgalnen/pseuds/Esgalnen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drugged and injured Captain Crane is thrown into a cell with a young woman.  Their captor, Colonel Arsenio hopes to extract information from her and is willing to go to any lengths to retrieve it, even to the extent of resorting to torture and drug-induced interrogation to get it. </p>
<p>Story is complete</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Of The Sparrow

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second in my ‘Chain of Spies’ Series. I do not own Voyage To The Bottom of the Sea, Admiral Nelson, Captain Crane or Commander Morton. Deborah Bellamy/Sparrow is my creation. I loved Daffron & Delaney’s inclusion of Michael Coldsmith Briggs and the CIA as being part-investors/owners of the Seaview and I hope that I have not offended them by including him in this tale. As usual I make no profit from this story it was written purely for fun, please don’t sue, I have no money. Again, while I appreciate constructive criticism, no flames.
> 
> “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea”® and its characters, indicia and designs are trademarks of Irwin Allen Properties, LLC. © Irwin Allen Properties, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All rights reserved.  
> Michael Coldsmith Briggs III appears with unauthorized courtesy of Belisarius Productions and MCA/Universal.

Day of the Sparrow

Lee Crane, Captain of the SSRN Seaview sighed softly; it was supposed to have been a routine mission. Whether he'd been spotted as his dinghy approached the beach, or whether he'd been betrayed it didn't matter. So now he was sitting in what appeared to be a shed, bound hand and foot to a chair. He was also sporting a black eye and a cut over his right eyebrow. He hadn't surrendered easily.

The door opened and he watched incuriously as a pair of shiny, black boots appeared in front of him. "It would appear that you've failed in your mission, Commander," an oily voice purred.

Lee lifted his head to stare into the face of Colonel Arsenio. "How do you know I'm not the bait," he enquired "and might I say that it's a pleasure to meet you too, Colonel."

"You will regret your insolence," the Colonel replied darkly. As he spoke, Captain Crane felt a jab in his upper arm, "We'll be back in a little while."

Whatever drug they had been pumped into him took effect fairly quickly and although he didn't lose consciousness, he had no energy or will to fight so when he was untied he could do nothing but hang limply in his captor's arms as he was thrown into the back of a van. Still groggy he was pulled out and then pushed into a small cell. He landed heavily and then someone was helping him onto a bunk, "I see Colonel Arsenic's been using his chemical concoctions again," a soft female voice remarked. "Let's get you lying flat."

He remembered very little for the remainder of the night. The room seemed to bend and twist as whatever he'd been injected with ran through his system. Once or twice he felt a hand beneath his neck and a cup was held to his lips. He remembered drinking thirstily and then his head was lowered back onto the pillow.

He thought he heard the door open and a bright, female voice said, "Colonel Arsenio, how kind of you to make house calls. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Why Miss Bellamy, I thought you'd be pleased to have company," the voice purred silkily, "you will come with me – now."

"I just knew that you couldn't survive without me for long, Colonel."

As the figure passed him, Lee felt a cool hand on his arm and her voice, almost too soft to hear, "Hold on," she murmured, "be back as soon as I can." That was the last thing he remembered for some time as he slid into darkness.

He went straight from sleep to wakefulness. Sitting up he had to suppress a groan as his head spun. Finally he managed to swing his legs over the side of the bunk and stumbled towards the table. He almost didn't make it, his head was swimming and his legs felt like rubber. He sank down into the chair and picked up the tin cup from the middle of the table he took a careful sip. He wanted to gulp down the entire contents, but restrained himself. This might be all the water he got today.

The door opened and a young woman was pushed into the room, hazel eyes met golden-brown ones and then he noticed that she was wearing a skirt and holding a bundle of something that might have been her clothes to her naked chest.

"I'm glad to see you awake at long last," her mouth smiled, but there was something in her eyes made him want to get up and put his arms around her. Since he still felt as if he stood up he'd fall over, he contented himself with smiling, "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"I will be." She swallowed, and with as much dignity as she could muster she turned her back on him and shrugged into the shirt. She spun round so that she was facing him and forced a smile to numb lips, "When I get back to civilisation the first thing I'm going to do is treat myself to a Coke."

"I'll take you," Captain Crane finally found his voice, "we can sit at a little cafe on the boardwalk in Santa Barbara and listen to the ocean."

"I'd like that," she replied, "so what brings you to this happy holiday home?" she asked brightly.

"Wrong place; wrong time," Lee managed a rueful smile.

"Ah, a failing of many of us I believe."

"My name's Lee," he said, "Captain Lee Crane. You are?"

"Deborah. Deborah Bellamy. A pleasure to meet you Captain."

He shook her hand and then pulling out the second chair for her, said, "Please."

A slight blush tinged her cheeks as she lowered herself onto the seat, "Here," he pushed the half-cup of water towards her, "you look as though you've been put through the wringer."

"Thank you," Deborah took a hesitant sip, then she looked up, "are you sure you've had enough to drink, Captain?"

"I'll be fine," he assured her, "and please, call me Lee."

"Lee." She managed a hesitant smile, "it is nice to have such a handsome man as my companion."

Lee smiled back, "Well I don't know about you, but I'm still exhausted so I'm going to try and get some sleep. Think they'll come back?"

Deborah yawned, putting a hand over her mouth, "Colonel Arsenic is probably back at his villa by now. We're safe until the morning."

"Colonel Arsenic?" Lee enquired.

"My pet name for him," Deborah replied. She pushed the cup away from her and shook her head. "With all due respect, Lee, I can't drink any more. You finish it."

Lee eyed her thoughtfully, she closed her eyes and for the briefest of moments a shudder ran through the slim frame. Then from somewhere, he watched her draw herself upright and gather her strength. Her eyes opened and she gave him the briefest of nods before she rose to her feet, "I'm going to get some sleep, Captain." She curled up on the other bunk and turned away from him.

He eyed her for a few moments and then getting to his feet, he picked up the cup and walked across to the bunk and sat down next to her. Laying a hand on her shoulder he said, "You should really try and finish this, you look like you could use it."

"No, thank you," a voice said tiredly, "you can finish it, Captain." He heard the catch in her voice and she said, "Lee, I'm very close to tears right now, and I'm not going to dissolve into hysterics on your shoulder. Are we clear?"

He smiled and gave her shoulder a firm, warm squeeze, "We're clear. Can you hold it together a little while longer?"

She swallowed and replied, "Yes, Captain. I can try."

"Good." He replied. He gave her shoulder a final squeeze and then standing up he walked across to the other bunk. Sleep was a long time coming. He heard her get up and use the bucket and the squeak of the springs as she settled back onto the mattress.

He might have dozed, he wasn't sure. When he awoke she was sitting at the table. "I thought you were going to sleep all day," she said brightly.

"I thought Colonel Arsenic would have whisked you away to his island paradise by now," Captain Crane replied.

"I rather think that he has something nasty planned for both of us." She said sombrely. She sighed and said, "They'll probably torture me in an attempt to get you to talk."

He looked aghast, "They must know I can't let them hurt you-"

A brief smile touched her lips, and she leant forward her eyes serious, "Listen to me, Captain, whatever they do to me, you mustn't talk. Promise me."

Lee stared at her, his mouth open, "I-I can't-" he began but her hand on his mouth silenced him.

"Promise me. Your word," she demanded. "I'm ONI. You  _must_  keep silent."

"They're going to hurt you again aren't they?"

"At first," Lee watched her throat work, "after that they'll use truth serums."

"Christ!" he spat and she was shocked by the fury in his eyes.

She smiled, "Thank you for that, Captain. But I still need your word. Promise me."

He bit his lips and looked away. Eventually, his lips melded in a thin line he nodded. "You have a plan?"

"Of sorts," she managed a weak smile, "I'm just hoping that I can withstand the torture long enough. Cigar burns hurt like the devil."

He swallowed again and she watched his throat work. "I am sorry about this," she murmured, "It shouldn't have to be you."

Lee didn't respond and Deborah felt a wave of pity run through her. "He is using me to make you talk," she said softly.

He gave her hand a quick, hard squeeze, just as the door was flung open.

"Ah, my two little lovebirds!" Colonel Arsenio's hard little eyes glittered in the lamplight.

"Just seeking companionship wherever we can find it," Deborah turned so that she was facing him. "What can we do for you, Colonel?"

"Will you talk, Sparrow? Yes or no?" Colonel Arsenio enquired.

"I think – No." She replied dryly.

"Perhaps your Captain will talk," Arsenio stated turning to the man sitting next to her.

"Not likely," Crane replied. Nausea roiling in his belly. He wished he could turn to this woman beside him and offer her a smile of encouragement but he didn't dare, if Colonel Arsenio saw the connection between them Captain Crane had no doubt that the Colonel would use that information against them.

"Such a shame," Arsenio purred, "and you such a pretty little thing too."

Deborah didn't respond, and Arsenio unholstered his automatic, "Enough chit-chat," he growled. "Move!"

Deborah shrugged and rising gracefully to her feet, walked past Colonel Arsenio and out of the door. Both were manhandled down a long corridor to a large room. Two metal tables stood in the centre of the room and for the first time, Deborah was suddenly afraid. She flicked a quick look at the man in khakis standing next to her, his eyes were very dark and his mouth was set in a hard line.

A tall, heavy-set man was standing between the tables, he was wearing a long white laboratory coat but Deborah noticed that his skin was glistening.  _Fear or heat?_  She wondered thoughtfully.

A hard object prodded her in the back and reluctantly she stepped forward until she was standing next to the first table. "Strip her to her panties," Arsenio ordered.

"I'll do it myself," Deborah replied shortly. She pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor and Lee bit his lips when he saw the circular burns on her torso.

"And the rest," the Colonel ordered, brandishing his weapon.

She shrugged out of the skirt and stood waiting, "And now, Colonel?" she said sweetly.

"On the slab, Sparrow," the other man ordered.

"You could at least say 'please'," she grumbled. She lifted herself on the table and as she lay down, four guards took hold of her arms and legs and manacled them to the table. "You could also try being a little less rough," she muttered.

When she was firmly clamped to the metal gurney, the Colonel turned his attention to the still figure standing next to the table, "Now, Captain, if you would be so good as to get onto the other one."

"You're not going to ask him to strip too?" Deborah's laconic voice floated up from the first table, "I would suggest that you're being sexist, Colonel Arsenic."

"You may think that your sense of humour will prevent me from torturing you, Sparrow," Colonel Arsenio said coldly, "I can assure you that this is not the case – and if you will not talk, I am sure that your companion will be only too eager to tell me everything he knows."

"He doesn't know anything," Deborah sighed, "sorry, Colonel, he's just an innocent bystander."

"In a naval uniform? I think not, Sparrow. I think he was sent here to rescue you."

"He didn't know about me," Deborah replied, "and even if he was sent with my knowledge; he will still have no information of any use to you."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, when he sees what I am going to do to you, I am sure that he will tell me everything he knows." Colonel Arsenio took out a cigar from his inside pocket and snipping off the end, lit it. Deborah felt the smoke tickle her nose and resisted the impulse to sneeze. She opened her eyes to see the end of the Colonel's cigar glowing red and swallowed hard again.

"I doubt that you will get any information from either of us," Deborah closed her eyes, "but who am I to disappoint  _you_ , Colonel Arsenic."

Ever afterwards Captain Crane would count the next twenty minutes as among the worst in his life. He watched as the burning cigar tip was lowered onto her breast and heard her strangled gasp of pain as it made contact. He closed his eyes and then he heard the quiet voice of Colonel Arsenio, "I would suggest you open your eyes, Captain. Or I will force one of my men to hold them open. You will witness this; you will know that it is your fault I am tormenting this young woman."

"No it isn't," Deborah hissed from between clenched teeth.

The Colonel took another couple of puffs on his Havana before replying, "My dear, dear Sparrow, such naiveté. But he will talk – or you will talk-" the cheroot came down again and this time Deborah shrieked.

Despite his promise not to react, Lee couldn't help the sudden jerk against his bonds when she screamed. The Colonel must have noticed it because he turned to the man, "so, this disturbs you, Captain. If you tell me everything you know, this will stop."

Lee looked across to Deborah. Her hazel eyes were closed and tendrils of dark hair stuck to her forehead. Swallowing he stared at Colonel Arsenio and shook his head, "I have nothing to say."

"Your choice, Captain," and the lighted cigar came down again. Lee stared at Deborah's face each time the Colonel lowered his hand and bit the inside of his cheek until it bled so he wouldn't talk. Finally the Colonel stepped back. Lee dared a glance at Deborah and saw seven or eight circular burns covering her torso and breasts. He looked up at her face, willing her to open her eyes and look at him.

"We're going to have to move onto the truth serums!" He spat, crushing the cylindrical roll of tobacco beneath his feet.

"What a waste of a good smoke, Colonel," Deborah said lazily, opening her eyes, "and a Belisco Bolivar if I'm not mistaken." She closed her eyes again.

"You will talk!" the Colonel screamed, waving his finger in her face, "and then we will see what information is in your head!"

The doors opened and what appeared to be a small dressings trolley was wheeled in. Captain Crane saw the items sitting on it and had to swallow hard.

As the inside of her elbow was wiped, Deborah opened her eyes, "Worrying about sterility, Colonel?"

"If you don't succumb during this particular session, I shall need to question you again – and I'd prefer you healthy. Unless you'd rather I asked your companion?"

"Your solicitude overwhelms me, Colonel," Deborah replied dryly, opening her hazel eyes to stare at him, "do your worst."

Ever afterwards, Lee would say that was one of the proudest moments of his life. If he had ever doubted ONI's decision to recruit female agents, looking at Sparrow, those fears vanished.

The needle was inserted into her arm and then the tourniquet was removed. Deborah turned her head to face him. Then she winked. It was so quick that he wasn't even sure he'd seen it. Then she turned her head back to stare at the ceiling. As the drug took effect, her eyes fluttered closed. Lee closed his eyes in frustration, willing himself to remain silent.

"She's ready, Colonel," the white-coated doctor said softly.

Captain Crane watched as the Colonel stepped forward, his little, piggy eyes glittering, "Now, my little Sparrow," his tone was almost gentle and Lee's heart sank, "tell me the code."

A slight frown pleated Deborah's forehead, and to Lee's mounting horror, she began to speak. It was five minutes before he realised that she was reciting the recipe for lemon meringue pie.

"...mix the lemon zest and juice with the cornflour and stir to form a smooth paste. Measure four hundred and fifty millilitres of water into a pan and bring to the boil. Add the lemon cornflour mixture to the hot water and stir over the heat until the mixture has thickened, then remove from the heat. In a bowl mix together the sugar and egg yolks and carefully whisk into the lemon mixture in the pan-"

Suddenly there was a commotion from outside. Lee lifted his head, the golden eyes narrowing.

Colonel Arsenio swore, "I'll go and see what the problem is-" he muttered, his hand going to the gun at his waist, and turned to the doctor, "keep recording everything she's saying. And I want a written record too."

As the Colonel left the commotion increased and the sounds of gunfire could be heard. Suddenly the doors were flung open and to his delight Lee saw members of the Seaview's crew, Kowalski leading them.

"Skipper!" Ski said, delight radiating from his face, "thank God-" and then his voice died in his throat and his eyes widened as he saw the naked figure lying on the table.

"Cover her up," Lee demanded. "Then get me out of this."

Patterson bent down and picked up Deborah's discarded blouse; clumsily he spread it across her torso and managed a faint smile at his captain.

"What about him?" Ski brandished his automatic at the quivering doctor.

Rubbing his wrists, Lee advanced on the man, "How much did you give her?" he demanded, his eyes dark and menacing.

"Only-only a light dose-" the doctor stuttered, "she'll be all right-"

"She better be," Lee growled. "Where's Colonel Arsenio?"

"We didn't see anyone, Sir," Patterson swallowed as he began releasing the restraints on the woman's wrists and ankles.

"Hellfire!" Lee swore, "Has anyone got a blanket?"

From somewhere, someone produced the item, for some reason Lee noticed that it was a deep, royal blue. As gently as possible he wrapped the young woman in it and lifted her into his arms. She moved uncomfortably and almost without thinking, Captain Crane's hold tightened. "Let's get out of here," he muttered.

"I don't think so, Captain," Colonel Arsenio drawled as he stepped into the room. He'd been shot in the right shoulder and was holding his left hand over the wound, all three men could see the blood trickling though his fingers. An automatic was trained on the figure of Captain Crane, "you aren't going anywhere."

"It's over, Colonel," Lee said tiredly, "you've nowhere to go."

"You think you're the only nation who've tried to bring me down?" Arsenio snarled, "I've got the code; once you four are dead I'll hike back to my villa-"

"Not this time, Colonel," a dry, familiar voice said slowly.

Arsenio wheeled around, just as the man fired. For a moment it seemed as though nothing had happened and then Colonel Arsenio slowly fell backwards, a neat hold in the centre of his forehead.

"Admiral!" Lee gasped in relief, "What are you doing here?"

"Once Briggs gave us the go-ahead for a rescue attempt I couldn't miss it. Who's the lady?"

"A very courageous young woman," Lee replied, "but she's been badly hurt."

"And this gentleman?" Nelson gestured at the now trembling doctor.

"He's the one who administered the truth serum."

"I see," Nelson's gaze hardened.

"A-a small amount," the man stuttered, "she will recover-"

"You'd better pray that she does," Lee replied menacingly.

"Tie him up and bring him with us," Nelson ordered, "I'll contact the authorities once we're aboard  _Seaview_. What happened to your eye?"

Lee grinned wryly, "I fought back."

Nelson grinned back and then nodded to Kowalski and Patterson. The doctor's hands were tied roughly behind his back and using the butt of his gun, Ski pushed him forwards.

_VTTBOTS_

Dr Jamieson was checking the supplies in Sickbay when Captain Crane barrelled into the room. Jamie was shocked, not just by his friend's black eye and the clotted wound over his right eyebrow, but by the taut, white look on Lee's face.

"What on earth-"

"Arsenio tortured her to try to make me talk," Lee gasped.

"You can put her here, Captain," Jamie said tersely, "I'll look after her."

"I won't leave her, Jamie," there was a hard edge to Lee's voice and looking at him Jamie realised how distressed he was.

"All right, Lee," he said gently. "Sit down here, you can hold her on your lap and I'll take a look."

Captain Crane nodded quickly, some of the tautness disappearing from his face. When he was settled Jamie gently drew the blanket and the tattered shirt away and to the Captain's surprise swore loudly. A smile touched his lips and Lee said tiredly, "I should have told you."

"Eleven cigar burns," Jamie said tersely, "and then the use of drugs to make her talk – yes?"

Captain Crane closed his eyes and nodded, his jaw tense. Jamie laid a hand on his arm, "She'll be all right, Captain."

It was pain that roused her; she gasped and opened her eyes. At the same moment she realised that she was lying across Captain Crane's lap. He looked down at her, "Deborah, can you hear me?"

"Yes," she smiled at up at him.

"It's all right now," he said gently, "we're safe aboard  _Seaview_."

"Don't make her talk too much, Captain," Dr Jamieson said tersely, "I would like her kept calm while I do this."

Deborah's eyes half opened and she turned her head to look into the blue eyes of Dr Jamieson, his eyes flicked to hers and he smiled, "I know it hurts," he said softly, "I'll be as gentle as possible."

She blinked at him, watching his face as he continued dressing the burns. He finished and then looked down at her, "How do you feel?" he asked gently.

"Floaty. Like I've had too much to drink," she replied.

Lee laughed softly, the movement lightening his face, "Think you might say something you'll regret?"

"Don't know," she sighed and closed her eyes again.

"Deborah-" Lee began urgently but Jamie shook his head, laying a hand on his friend's arm to quiet him.

"Deborah, we're going to put you to bed," Dr Jamieson said quietly.

"'Kay," she replied. "You need to look after Lee. He's worried about me."

Jamie looked across at Captain Crane and canted his head, raising an eyebrow and the Captain had the grace to look slightly sheepish, smiling he found his voice, "Just rest, Deborah, I'll see to Captain Crane."

"Good," she murmured softly and her eyes half-opened again, "you promise?"

"I promise," he assured her, his hand warm on her shoulder. "I want to give you something for the pain, it'll help you rest – do you know what you were injected with?"

"Ummm – the usual probably," she replied, "good old Sodium Pentothal, nice sometimes, like champagne – although I've only had champagne twice."

Jamie fought to suppress a smile and took a syringe from the trolley on his left, "This won't hurt, sweetie. Just take some nice deep breaths and go to sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up."

"That's what they all say," Deborah muttered, as Jamie gently wiped her arm and inserted the syringe. Lee watched as her face softened further and she slid into sleep.

"Let's get her into one of the racks and settled and then I'll take a look at your injuries." Jamie said firmly.

"I'm fine," Lee muttered.

"Yes, Captain. You always say that," Dr Jamieson replied, "but I promised our guest that I'd take care of you – and you wouldn't want me to break a promise would you?"

Captain Crane rolled his eyes and then Jamie gently shone a penlight into the affected eye, "That's quite a shiner, Captain. So far I can't see any signs of hyphema – bleeding within the iris and pupil," he explained at Lee's mystified expression. "No double vision since the accident. No loss of consciousness?"

"Only when they shot me full of something to make me compliant," Lee grumbled. "I told you, Jamie. I'm  _fine_."

"So you say, Captain," Dr Jamieson replied, "but I'm still giving you a mild sedative and ordering you to go and relax in your cabin."

"Can I crash here?" he asked quickly, "I don't want to leave her."

Jamie sighed, "All right. At least it means I can legitimately keep an eye on you both. No doubt the Admiral will be charging in here any minute to find out what the situation is."

Lee settled himself in the opposite bunk and turned on his side so that he was looking at Deborah. Jamie dimmed the lights and then quietly left them alone. He was writing up his report when the door opened quietly and Admiral Nelson stepped into the room. Dr Jamieson looked up and nodded to the Admiral.

"How are they, Doc?" Nelson asked quietly.

Jamie held a finger to his lips, "They should both be sleeping, Sir." He said quietly. "Come on through."

Nelson leant over his friend. Lee was fast asleep, one hand hanging over the edge of the bunk. He looked up as Jamie approached, "How's Captain Crane?"

"Lee will be all right, he's got a nasty black eye and that cut over his right eyebrow bled a lot but head wounds usually do. The young lady though," Jamie swallowed, "she had eleven cigar burns on her breasts and torso. They also used a 'Truth Serum' on her."

"How do you know?" Nelson asked.

"I asked her," Jamie replied, "she was still in that suggestible state – and she had no reason to lie to us. Lee told her she was safe, that may have helped."

"Any ideas what we do with her?" Nelson asked.

"Do we have to  _do_  anything with her?" Jamie asked quickly. "When she regains consciousness and she's lucid you can come down and speak with her."

"What's her name?"

"Deborah," Jamie replied, looking down at the sleeping figure.

"Deborah," Nelson murmured, "all right, Jamie. Look after them – both of them." He said turning to look at Lee's sleeping figure. He turned to the Doctor, "Briggs has taken an especial interest in this one – he'll meet us at Santa Barbara in four days time."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Jamie replied softly, watching as the Admiral left his cabin.

Deborah opened her eyes slowly and stared up at the bottom of the bunk above her, rolling over she saw Captain Crane fast asleep in the bunk opposite.

"Are you awake?" A soft voice asked, and Deborah looked up into a strong, compassionate face and bright blue eyes.

"I think so," she managed a wry smile and attempted to sit up, groaning as her wounds made themselves known.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've been through a mincer," she muttered. "How's your Captain?"

"He'll be all right," the man said, "I'm Doctor Jamieson. Good morning, Deborah."

"How do you know my name?" Deborah asked.

"You told me yesterday," Jamie said, he smiled, "you don't remember?" When she shook her head he smiled again, "A side-effect of the Sodium Pentothal I believe."

"Yeah," She sat up slowly, wincing at her stiffness, "it's one of the side-effects I  _really_  don't like."

"Only one?" Jamie laughed, and she had to grin back.

"Well that's the worst. But I don't like the other effects other, the way it makes the subject more obliging and relaxing."

"I don't think it affects you," Jamie replied.

"Oh it does," Deborah laughed, "I have just never told any of my interrogators what they wanted to hear. Doctor, may I have a cup of coffee?"

"Done." Jamie smiled again, "and our commanding officer would like to speak with you. Admiral Nelson."

"Understood, Doctor," Deborah replied. Jamie stuffed another two pillows behind her and then said more gently, "I'll fetch you that coffee."

When he returned he was accompanied by another man with auburn hair and piercing blue eyes, "Good morning," he said formally.

"Good morning, Admiral," Deborah replied, offering him her hand. "I presume I have you to thank for our fortuitous rescue."

"Actually, you owe your safety to a man called Michael Coldsmith Briggs," Nelson replied gravely.

_Archangel_ , Deborah thought suddenly,  _oh boy._

"Then I must thank him," she said slowly, her hazel eyes meeting his.

Nelson gestured for a chair as Jamie brought them both a cup of coffee, "I think you know more about this situation than you are able to talk about."

"Yes, Admiral," Deborah replied, "I do. Or at least I was sent in on a specific mission to feed the enemy false information – I have no knowledge about your Captain's."

Nelson's lips tightened and he said slowly, "I haven't had a chance to speak with my Captain yet, I am hoping that he wasn't sent in on a fool's errand."

"So am I, Admiral." Hazel eyes met his and despite himself, Nelson was impressed. He looked up and said, "In fact, I'm surprised that he hasn't woken up yet."

"That's my fault, Sir." Jamie appeared beside the bed, "when Captain Crane was asleep I gave him another shot of sedative. I thought it best."

Nelson gave him a fond look and then said, "I didn't think he had any serious injuries, Jamie."

"He had to watch a young woman being tortured-" Jamie began but Deborah's soft voice stopped him.

"At my insistence, Doctor. If you must blame someone for his state of mind, blame me."

Jamie ran a hand across his face, "I don't as a matter of fact. The Captain would feel the same if it was one of his own men. He was, however, as upset as I have seen him for a long while."

Sparrow sighed and took another sip of her coffee, "It would not help to say that I knew what to expect. Colonel Arsenio is the only one to have used torture first, perhaps it was because of Captain Crane's presence. He was certain that the Captain was either withholding information, or had been sent to rescue me, which reinforced his belief that both of us were keeping something from him."

"And were you?"

"No," she looked uncomfortable, "some others may be, but I was sent in as a 'Plant'. My job was simple, be injected with a 'Truth Serum' and tell them what I knew."

"And what was that?" Nelson asked.

"Nothing." Deborah replied, she regarded both men quietly and said, "I have an odd reaction to Sodium Pentothal," she swallowed and then both men saw a crimson flush creep up her cheeks, "I – erm – I'm told I recite recipes."

"Lemon meringue pie," a tired voice said from the other bunk and instantly Nelson was on his feet and moving across to the other bunk, "Lee!"

Deborah looked across at the Admiral leaning over the bunk, his face alight with joy and realised that she was seeing this man in a rare unguarded moment. Nelson's mouth creased in a warm smile and as she watched she saw the same expression reflected in the Captain's face.

"Lemon meringue pie?" Jamie queried, "why Lemon meringue pie?"

"Truthfully," Deborah raised an eyebrow, "I have no idea. I just always seem to start with that particular dessert."

"Do you tell your captors other recipes when under the influence of Sodium Pentothal?" Jamie asked curiously.

"I'm told I have done," Deborah grinned, "Boeuf Stroganoff and Chicken Casserole seem to be the favourites. But they are simply recipes, there is no secret code embedded in them - though my mother was rather put out when I recited her recipe for Duck in Blackcurrant sauce."

"Duck in Blackcurrant sauce?" Nelson frowned, "there's only one restaurant that serves that as its signature dish - Bellamy's."

"Ah, my secret is revealed." Deborah smiled.

"That's your surname? Bellamy?" Nelson asked.

"My mother is Eloise Bellamy," Deborah replied. "She owns and runs Bellamy's."

Nelson regarded her quietly, "Would you like us to send her a message?"

"If Archangel knows that I'm safe, I'm sure that he's told her," Deborah sighed, "how ecstatic she'll be to find that her only daughter is still reciting  _her_ recipes I don't know-"

"You only got as far as Lemon Meringue Pie," Lee assured her.

"Hmmm," Deborah looked uncomfortable, "I was hoping that I might have progressed further than that - and so I don't doubt was Archangel."

"Why?" Dr Jamieson frowned.

"As I said I was a 'Plant'," Deborah grimaced, "my job was to provide disinformation to the enemy. However, on this occasion I was quite glad to be rescued. Colonel Arsenio's methods were less than gentle."

"The cigar burns?" Lee asked softly.

Deborah nodded, she managed a watery smile at the three men in the cabin, "Sorry," she apologised, "I'm supposed to be an experienced intelligence operative - not a weak and feeble female."

"You're human, not a robot," Jamie replied hotly, "you're entitled to your feelings."

"Archangel would not agree," Deborah smiled wryly.

"Then we won't tell him." Nelson replied, a warm smile curving the strong lips.

"Any chance I could get up?" Deborah asked looking from one man to the other.

"I think so," Jamie replied.

Lee swung his legs out of the bunk, "I'm getting up, Jamie," he said shortly.

"Yes, I thought you would," Jamie replied.

"I'm afraid that he's not a man you can keep down for long," Sparrow smiled.

"There are times when I would like to," Jamie muttered. "Right, Captain, I'll release you. Light duties only, do you understand – and if you experience any pain in your head I want to see you immediately."

"Yes, Jamie," Lee replied and then gave Deborah a wry grin, "he's always like this. I'm fine."

"Does the Captain always act like this?" She asked, canting her head at Doctor Jamieson.

"He's the world's worst patient," Jamie grumbled.

"I think I might fall into that category too," Deborah sighed, "I'm not a very good patient either, Doctor."

Jamie looked from one to the other and sighed, "Just promise me that if either of you have any problems you'll come to me."

Deborah looked across at Captain Crane sitting on the edge of the bunk, "Should we give him our word?" she inquired, her face the picture of innocence.

"It would be easier in the long run," Lee replied. "He has spies everywhere."

"Ah, one of the good guys," Deborah responded.

"Come on," Lee smiled, "I'll show you to your cabin."

Dr Jamieson laid a hand on her arm as they were about to leave Sickbay, in his hand he was holding a small packet, "Some people get a bit freaked out in a submarine, these are some mild sedatives, they might help you sleep."

"Thanks," Deborah replied, "I appreciate that."

"Any problems come back and see me - understand?" He gave her a half-stern glare, "I know what these boats can do to people. I'd rather you came to see me before you 'lost it', okay?"

Deborah nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Lee, keep an eye on her. I don't want a repeat of the 'Mouse' incident."

"Sir," Crane acknowledged and then they were walking out of the cabin and down the corridor.

"What was the 'Mouse' incident?" Deborah asked, her forehead creasing in a frown, "or aren't you at liberty to tell me?"

"It's not my place to tell you," Crane replied shortly.

"Fair enough." Deborah replied, "I take it someone else had a bad reaction to being aboard a submarine and you don't want a repeat of that."

"Something like that," Captain Crane responded and seeing the hard line of his mouth, Deborah decided not to push it. Captain Crane opened the door of one of the VIP cabins, "I hope this will be all right for you, Miss Bellamy."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Captain," Deborah replied. "Would you like me to wait here?"

"No, you may as well come up to the Refectory," Lee said, "I'll introduce you to the men, and then I'll take you down to the nose."

"Nose?" Deborah looked puzzled.

"You'll know when you see it." Lee's smile broadened and Deborah smiled in return. "Then I think we ought to debrief the Admiral."

"I shall do my best," Deborah replied, "although he must understand that there are things I cannot divulge – even to a member of the United States Naval Reserve – at least not without prior permission."

Lee gave her a quick look, there was a hard set look on her face and he decided not to press it. Then he was opening the door of the Refectory and ushering her through, "This is Miss Bellamy-" he began.

"A pleasure, Miss Bellamy," the dark-haired man stepped forward and shook her hand, "I'm Seaman Kowalski."

"Zdravstvuyte, Tovarisch," she replied,  _Hello, comrade._

"Ty govorish' po-russki?" the amazement in his voice was palpable,  _You speak Russian._

"'Lish 'malost. Eto priyatno v'stretit'sya s vami." she grinned, feeling the strong hand close around her own.  _Only a little. It's a pleasure to meet you._

Lee looked from one to the other, "What did you say?" He demanded.

Deborah grinned, "I said 'Hello, and Seaman Kowalski asked if I spoke Russian – I replied that I only spoke a little and it was a pleasure to meet him.' We haven't exchanged code phrases Captain."

"You're a dark horse," Lee replied thoughtfully.

"I'm an Intelligence Operative," she replied, her hazel eyes regarding him coolly.

Lee cleared his throat, “I’ll have to assign someone to you while you’re aboard this vessel.  You must understand-”

“I can’t wander the boat unaccompanied,” she regarded him quietly.

“Exactly.  I’ll assign Seaman Kowalski to you, as your Steward,” she raised an eyebrow and he smiled, “well it’s better than Escort or Watchdog.”

“That’s true.”  She turned to the dark haired man, “are you all right with this, Mr Kowalski?  I realise that the _Seaview_ is a working vessel.”

“It would be a pleasure, Miss Bellamy,” Kowalski replied.

"As you can see," Lee smiled, "this is the Refectory where the men eat, socialise, and occasionally –" the grin was back, "play poker."

"Well we only play for toothpicks, Sir," another man replied, a broad smile lighting his face. "Do you play Miss Bellamy?"

"Not well at all," Deborah confessed.

"You'd always be welcome," the man responded, reaching out to shake her hand, "I'm Patterson."

"A pleasure," Deborah shook his hand, smiling at the earnest grin.

"Chief Sharkey will be in the Control Room, I'll introduce you when we go down to the nose. So, how long have you been an Intelligence Operative, Sparrow?"

"A while," she replied, a wry smile touching her lips. Archangel and I go back a long way – at least seven years. Krysia and I are the only ones working within the Intelligence community now."

"Krysia?" Lee turned to her a frown pleating his forehead, "Krysia Bartosz? Code name Selket?"

She turned and Lee saw her swallow, "Yes. I assume since you know her code name that you've met."

"Yes," Lee replied thoughtfully, "a couple of months ago. She saved my life."

"Sounds like her," Deborah smiled tightly, "Selket and I were part of a team of seven Intelligence Officers almost ten years ago. Then – well that's another story and it isn't mine to tell. Suffice it to say there was a major incident and we were disbanded."

"Did you like the work?"

"Selket and I are the only ones who have remained in Intelligence," Sparrow replied, "the others have moved on for various reasons. In one sense, yes, I believe I did and still do enjoy the work." She looked thoughtful, "I'm good at what I do, Captain. I also believe that I make a difference – these are the  _only_  reasons I continue."

"Me too," Lee replied tautly, he stopped at the top of the staircase and said, "After you, Sparrow."

She nodded and then walked down the stairs, as she emerged into the Control Room she saw the herculite windows and stared in disbelief. Captain Crane stepped up beside her, "I told you," he said.

She turned to him, "So you did," she replied, a grin curling the lips. "That's amazing."

"Most visitors say that," Lee admitted. "Come on, let's go and see the Admiral."

Nelson stood up and extended his hand, "Pleased to meet you, Miss Bellamy. I hope that you're feeling better."

"I am, Sir. Thank you for your hospitality."

"Please. Sit." Nelson gestured to the chair and then Captain Crane was walking around the table to sit next to his Admiral. Deborah eyed both men carefully, they looked comfortable together and a part of her was envious – she'd had something that close ten years before and a part of her wished that she still had it. Nelson leant forward and said, "So, Miss Bellamy, you said that you were sent in as a 'Plant' by Archangel. Can you elucidate?"

Sparrow nodded, "As I told yourself and Captain Crane in your Sickbay, I have an odd reaction to Sodium Pentothal. So I was sent in, in order to be given the 'Truth Drug' and give Colonel Arsenio false information. I would be 'extracted' five days after the Colonel had started his interrogation."

"Someone screwed up," Nelson said bitterly.

"In more ways than one," Deborah replied, "I am normally 'extracted' and my captors left alive."

"So killing Arsenio wasn't part of the deal." Nelson replied.

"Not really," Deborah smiled wryly, "as I am sure that Captain Crane is aware; disinformation is also a part of the Office of Naval Intelligence. That's what my mission was."

"Did we screw it up?" Crane asked quietly.

"I don't think you had much choice," Deborah replied, "Colonel Arsenio was about to use deadly force on Captain Crane and I – you could be justified in your response."

"Tell that to Briggs," Nelson grumbled.

"I think he will understand," she replied, "he gave you authorization for the rescue didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did." Nelson stubbed out a cigarette in the ashtray.

"It will be all right, Admiral." Sparrow eyed him sympathetically.

"I'll reserve judgement," Nelson grumbled and then there was a knock on the door, "Come in!"

The door opened and a tall blond man with piercing blue eyes stepped into the room. Deborah looked up at him and felt her mouth go dry, she wasn't terribly good at reading people, but she knew without a doubt that if she double-crossed either Admiral Nelson or Captain Crane; this man would probably see to her punishment personally. Rising to her feet she extended her right hand, "Deborah Bellamy," she smiled, "Code name: Sparrow."

"Commander Morton," he said curtly, and Deborah felt a strong, warm hand enclose her own.

"A pleasure, Commander." She said quietly.

"I've got a communiqué from Briggs, Sir," Morton said tersely, handing the flimsy to Nelson. The Admiral took it, read it and swore. Then he looked up at Sparrow, "Briggs must value you very highly. He's coming here to pick you up in two days."

Deborah scowled, "Oh joy. What other news is there?"

"He also wants the man who administered your 'Truth Serum'," Nelson crumpled up the flimsy and flung it across the room, it bounced off the side of the wastepaper bin and skittered across the floor. Deborah bent and picking up the crumpled piece of paper, dropped it into the bin.

"He's got to try and salvage something from this," Deborah said quietly, "now that Colonel Arsenio's dead. He may even let him go with the 'Lemon Meringue' recording."

Captain Crane's mouth twisted in a scowl, "What about you?"

"At least I'll get a couple of weeks holiday," Deborah grinned, "and then I'll be inserted somewhere else. Just one of those things – although I hope this time that they just use the sodium pentothal."

Nelson nodded, anger visible on the handsome face, Deborah managed a shaky smile, "Please don't look like that, Admiral. While your anger is justified, I have known what I was getting into for a number of years. This has just been one of the more painful experiences."

"She's stronger than she looks, Harry." Lee's soft voice seemed to penetrate his Commanding Officer's fury and Deborah watched as the older man's shoulders sagged, "you could be killed."

"Yes." Sparrow's hazel eyes regarded him coolly, "I have considered that too. But if I am, I hope by the time I die, if I die, that I have given my enemies enough disinformation to keep them tied up in knots for at least a hundred years. I am a tool, Admiral, and sometimes tools are used to their destruction."

"If you told them all the recipes I think they'd be tied up in knots for a thousand," a warm smile touched Lee's face. "Sir, I'm getting a bit peckish, shall I take Miss Bellamy for supper?

Nelson nodded tiredly, "We'll meet you there," he said, then Lee's hand was beneath Deborah's elbow and he was escorting her from the nose, past the plotting table, with a quick nod to Commander Morton and then she was being gently, but firmly ushered down the corridor to the Officer's Mess.

She sat as the tall, dark-haired man rummaged in the fridge, "How does a Coke sound?" he asked, half-turning to face the young woman.

"Coke would be super," Deborah smiled at him.

Lee poured two glasses and brought them across to the table, he sat down opposite her and said, "Do you think you will be able to sleep?" he asked solicitously.

"Dr Jamieson gave me some tranquilisers," Deborah replied, "I think I shall take one of them before I bed down for the night. I'll be fine, Captain."

"Lee," he said softly.

"Lee," Deborah replied, "I will be fine – and if I have a bad reaction I'll call your doctor, all right?"

"Do you promise?" he insisted, the golden eyes holding hers.

"I promise," she responded.

Admiral Nelson and Commander Morton joined them five minutes later and the subject was never brought up again, although throughout dinner, Deborah could sense Captain Crane's concern.

She'd refused coffee, explaining that it might interfere with her ability to sleep. Tiredness was beginning to creep up on her. Captain Crane must have noticed because suddenly he was at her elbow, "Shall I escort you to your cabin, Miss Bellamy?"

"I'd appreciate that, Captain," Deborah smiled, and then had to cover her mouth to stifle a yawn. He opened the door for her, a soft smile curving the strong lips, "Sleep well, Sparrow."

"I shall do my best, Captain," she replied, gently closing the door and walking across to the bunk. The tranquilisers sat on top of the blanket and she looked down at the packet, a strange expression twisting her face. Finally, she picked up the bag and walked across to the desk. Sighing she squeezed out a single tablet and filling a glass from the jug, swallowed the drug.

Someone had graciously left a pair of pyjamas on the pillow and thankful for small mercies she slid into them and crawled beneath the covers. It wasn't restful. She jerked awake, her heart thumping, sweat drenching the pyjamas. Fumbling along the wall she switched the light on and flopped back against the pillow.  _What the hell had caused that reaction? She'd never particularly liked confined spaces but she'd never felt like this._ Wiping her forehead with her sleeve she scowled,  _What the hell was she going to do?_ Sighing she swung her legs out of bed and stumbled into the head. Splashing her face she stared at herself in the mirror –  _Gods, I look awful_ , she thought. Wiping her face she leant against the mirror and closed her eyes, weariness seeping through her. She didn't want to return to her bunk; she couldn't actually remember the dream, only the feeling that she was trapped in the darkness, and trying to inhale through air that was too hot to breathe. Somehow she found the strength to return to the cabin and flopped into the chair facing the desk, illogical as it felt, she really  _didn't_  want to go back to bed, it was beginning to feel as though the walls were closing in on her and the thought made her shiver.

Eventually, cursing every stupid thought in her head, she dressed and carefully opened the door. The lights had been dimmed which made her think that it was very late or very early. A legal pad and pen sat on the desk, clipping the pen to the pad and tucking it beneath her arm, she began to walk down the corridor hoping to find somewhere she could sit down and at least begin her report. Slowly she slipped out of her cabin and began walking along the corridor, and hoped that she wouldn't stumble into a top secret area – _You have higher clearance than a lot of people on this boat, Debbie_  she thought to herself,  _but she really didn't want to cause the officers aboard this particular boat any more problems; she had the uneasy feeling that Briggs was_ ** _not_** _Mr Popular where this vessel was concerned._

After what seemed at least four or five wrong turns she stumbled into a large room and realized with relief it was the Enlisted Men's Mess.  _At least there are tables,_  she thought tiredly, and to her everlasting joy, a pot of coffee and some empty mugs sat on the table. She poured herself a cup and thanked the gods that it was hot. She sat down and began to write.

She had written a page and a half when there was the sound of crashing and a muffled curse from the galley behind her. Puzzled she half-turned just as another string of expletives poured from the half-open door. She stood up and laying her pen on the table pushed open the door, a tall middle-aged man was rummaging through the cupboards, pots and pans littered the floor around him and he was muttering the vilest expletives she'd ever heard.

"What on earth-" she began.

He turned on her, "Where's the bloody saffron? I know I ordered some – if they can't find it at the end of the voyage it'll come out of my pay!"

"Why did you need the saffron?" Deborah asked.

"Saffron rice with the chicken dopiaza."

"There's a trick I can teach you," She said, "you can use turmeric, it'll even be cheaper in the long run."

The man ran a hand across his face, "All right. You any good at slicing chicken?"

"My least favourite job," she grinned, "still as they say, 'Many hands make light work.'"

"Actually," he confessed, "my least favourite job too, but as you're here I get to delegate."

"Ah. I shouldn't have volunteered my services," but there was a grin playing around her lips.

"I'm Navy Chief Brian Masterson," he said holding out a hand.

"Deborah Bellamy," she replied, feeling his hand close round her own.

"There's a restaurant in Santa Barbara called Bellamy's," he said slowly, "any relation?"

"My mother owns and runs it," Deborah replied slowly, "and I'm afraid that any skill with regard to cooking begins and ends with her."

Masterson set the chicken on the counter and then said, "The knives are in the block over there, when you've sliced the chicken, just chuck it in that pan."

"Chuck?" she raised an eyebrow and Masterson laughed.

"I like to prepare the main meal of the day first thing in the morning. Breakfast is quick and simple; but I like to prepare lunch first thing in the morning, particularly if it's a big job. So, show me how turmeric can be a substitute for saffron."

"Perhaps the only skill I learnt from my mother," Deborah began, she began to explain how a dessert spoon of turmeric added to the rice water would give the same colouration to the rice that saffron would, "and I doubt that anyone will taste the difference. Unless they're gourmands themselves."

"Why don't you consider yourself a cook?" Brian asked, as he began chopping vegetables.

"Weelll," Deborah took another chopping board and began to dice the onions, "I can chop vegetables with the best of them; I can even throw meat into a pan," she flicked a quick look at the Navy Chief, "but every dish I have ever attempted has never turned out the way it's supposed to. And despite knowing the recipe for Lemon Meringue Pie inside out, it didn't help that I half-poisoned most of the Command Staff at ONI."

Masterson frowned and he turned to look at her, "This I have to hear."

Lee was walking through to the mess when he heard the gales of laughter emerging from the galley, he pushed open the door to see Navy Chief Masterson and Deborah Bellamy hanging onto one another, the tears pouring down Masterson's face, Masterson looked up and saw Crane. "Sir," he said, automatically standing to attention.

"At ease, Chief," Crane said, a smile curving the strong mouth.

Deborah turned and straightened up, "Sir," she acknowledged, "I think I had a bad reaction to Dr Jamieson's tranquilisers – I ended up here. Navy Chief Masterson allowed me to help with the preparation of today's lunch."

Crane regarded the  _Seaview's_  chef and then gave Masterson a quick nod,  _Thank you,_ he mouthed and then he looked down at Deborah, "It's almost time for breakfast, Miss Bellamy, would you like me to escort you?"

"That'd be great, Captain," she smiled, "every time I turned a corner on this boat I thought I'd stumble into a top secret area."

Masterson touched her arm as she was about to leave, "If you'd like to learn how to cook a proper Lemon Meringue Pie I'd be delighted to teach you."

"It would be a pleasure," Deborah replied, "if I'm allowed." She turned to Captain Crane.

"You'll try not to let her poison the crew, won't you?" Crane replied.

"I think I can safely say that she won't be doing that," Masterson replied, he grinned down at Deborah, "I'll make sure of it."

_VTTBOTS_

Admiral Nelson looked up when they entered the Wardroom, "Oh good, you found her."

"I wasn't really lost, Admiral," Deborah looked slightly sheepish, "I had a bad night."

"Because of the submarine?" Nelson looked concerned, "you'll take her for a check up after breakfast, Lee?"

"Yes, Sir," Crane replied. He looked down at Deborah, "You're not going to protest that you're perfectly fine?"

"It would endanger the crew and myself," Deborah replied thoughtfully, "and it may just be that I had a nasty reaction to one of your physician's tranquilisers. Maybe if I go and speak with your doctor it can be nipped in the bud, so to speak."

Crane nodded, "You're being very forthright about this."

"It would be foolish and dangerous not to be," she replied.

"Interesting," Chip leant forward, "why so honest, Miss Bellamy?"

"If this boat is getting to me, you need to know now," she replied, "and see if there's something that can be done. You don't need me wandering all over your vessel because I can't sleep and I feel that the bulkheads are closing in on me – if you have to start worrying about me and my behaviour, none of you will be able to operate at maximum efficiency."

Crane nodded, "All right."

Behind him, Kowalski cleared his throat, "Sir, Chief Masterson has said that if Miss Bellamy would like to come down to the Galley at 1600 he'll be glad to have her assistance."

Lee turned to the young woman, "Would you like that?"

"Yes, Captain," Deborah smiled back, "he's promised to teach me a recipe."

"Then if Seaman Kowalski is agreeable he can escort you." Lee said, "now, my little Sparrow, if you'll come with me I'll take you down to Sickbay."

"And then bed I think," Deborah yawned, "I feel like I've been awake forever."

Dr Jamieson was deft and gentle, "So you took one of my tranquilisers and went to bed but you had a nightmare?"

Deborah nodded and managed a half-smile, "Sorry, Doctor. I know I'm causing you problems."

"Not at all," Jamieson smiled, "I'd much rather you came to me as soon as these things happened, unlike some I can mention." He looked up at Captain Crane who had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable, "What are you going to do now?"

"Crash in my cabin," Deborah replied, "if that's all right, Doctor?"

"That's acceptable," Dr Jamieson smiled, "any more problems-"

"You'll be the first to know," she replied wryly.

To her surprise it was Captain Crane who offered to escort her back to her cabin, she smiled up at him, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked.

"I just thought that you might like to see a friendly face," Lee replied.

"That'd be nice," Deborah grinned and rose to her feet.

He opened the door to her cabin and ushered her inside, "Are you sure you'll be all right?" He asked solicitously.

"I think I'll be fine, Captain," she replied, stifling a yawn.

"Sleep well." He smiled and then closed the door.

Deborah slipped into the head and relieved herself, she washed her hands and returned to her cabin. Sighing she lay down on the bunk and turned over so that she was facing away from the bulkhead. She was asleep within minutes. The door opened quietly and Captain Crane carefully stepped into the cabin. He watched her carefully for a few moments and then silently closed the door, he met Dr Jamieson coming up the gangway, "If you're on your way to Miss Bellamy's cabin, she's fast asleep." He said, "I've just checked."

"Good." Jamie looked relieved, "I don't like things like this happening to people aboard my boat. It disrupts the normal flow."

Captain Crane raised a dark eyebrow, "Is there such a standard aboard this vessel?"

Jamie smiled wryly, "Perhaps not, Captain." He smiled, "you're sure she's asleep?"

"Out like a light,"

"Good." Jamie nodded, "then I think we'll let her sleep. Can someone take her some coffee later?"

"I asked Kowalski to be her Steward so I'll detail him to take her some coffee at 1500 hours. She's an appointment in the Galley at 1600."

Someone was gently shaking her shoulder. Peeling open her eyelids she stared up into the dark brown eyes of Seaman Kowalski. "It's 1500 hours, Miss Bellamy, I brought you some coffee."

Blinking, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk, "Kowalski isn't it?"

"Yes, Miss Bellamy," the man smiled, "how do you take your coffee?"

"Just milk please," she replied, yawning. He handed her the mug and she took a large sip, nearly scalding her throat in the process.

"That's good," she murmured. "Are you all right?" she asked, looking up at the young man.

"I'm fine, thank you, Miss Bellamy."

"How's the boat?"

" _Seaview's_ on course for your rendezvous. No problems."

"Good." She smiled and rose to her feet, "let's get down to the mess."

Chief Masterson was waiting for them. He smiled at Kowalski, "You can leave her in my charge, Kowalski. She'll be fine."

Kowalski nodded and then they were alone. Chief Masterson turned back to his worktop, "You never did tell me what happened regarding your Lemon Meringue Pie?"

Deborah rolled her eyes, "I think every Pharmacy for a Five-mile radius ran out of Bismuth and Loperamide. I'm just grateful that neither Coldsmith Briggs nor Captain Crane were in the vicinity."

Masterson grinned, "So tell me again, what happened?"

Nelson had come down to the galley to inquire after his guest's health when he heard the howls of laughter emanating from the galley, he heard Deborah's voice, high and light and smiling, quietly left.

"So what happened?" Masterson asked, as he began gathering the ingredients together.

"No-one adequately explained what baking blind actually meant," Deborah explained. ""The filling and meringue were fine, but the pastry was uncooked." She sighed, "Put me off cooking a bit."

"That's a shame," he said kindly, "especially with your mother being such a famous chef."

"Perhaps that has something to do with it," Deborah replied thoughtfully, "because of my mother, everyone expected me to be good at cooking and to love it. I didn't like cooking and I wasn't very good at it. So, cooking became a chore rather than a pleasure."

Masterson handed her the bowl, "mix those ingredients together. That's the pastry."

Fifteen minutes later, Deborah was pressing the pastry into the receptacle and under the Cook's instructions, pouring the dry pulses into the tin and then sliding the pan into the oven. "Fifteen minutes," Masterson said firmly, setting the timer next to the stove. "And now we start the washing up."

"What will you do when you get back to the mainland?" he asked as they dried.

"Have a few days holiday I think," Deborah replied thoughtfully, "go and see my mother, who is probably frantic."

"And then?"

"I don't know," Deborah grinned, "we'll just have to see what happens next."

"Then I wish you all the best," Masterson smiled, at that moment the timer beeped, "good, the crust is almost done. I'll show you what you do next and then we'll make the filling together."

"Oh the filling I can do," Debbie replied, "it was always the crust that was the problem."

"Then if you feel confident enough, you can do the filling yourself." Masterson smiled, "now let me show you how to finish off the pie crust."

Thirty minutes later, Lee quietly poked his head around the galley door. Both of them were chatting quietly and relieved he left them alone. Nelson looked up as he entered the Control Room, "Good afternoon, Lee," Nelson smiled, "feeling better?"

"Better now I don't have to worry about our passenger," Crane replied thoughtfully, "she and Navy Chief Masterson are preparing something in the galley."

"You were concerned," Nelson said quietly.

"Not everyone copes well aboard a submarine," Lee smiled, "but at least she was up front about it."

"Shows she has a lot of confidence in her abilities," Nelson replied, "an interesting lady."

"You can say that again, Admiral," Lee smiled. "I'll send Kowalski to bring her up here for supper."

Both men were chatting quietly, empty cups at their elbows when Deborah appeared in the doorway, Kowalski at her elbow. "Sir," he said, "Miss Bellamy."

Nelson stood up, "Miss Bellamy," he smiled, "come and have a coffee. I understand you've been assisting our chef in the galley."

"I think he's been teaching me, Sir," Deborah smiled, and both men were relieved to see how relaxed she looked. "I can finally make Lemon Meringue Pie – without poisoning all of ONI!"

Lee laughed, "That's good. What are you going to do after supper?"

"Bed I think," Deborah smiled, "I still feel washed out – but I suspect that's due to Colonel Arsenic."

"Colonel Arsenic?" Nelson looked bemused.

"It was my pet name for Colonel Arsenio, Admiral," Deborah admitted, "when I was locked in that room and being interrogated, I kept calling him 'Colonel Arsenic' in my head. But I rather suspect I'm going to have to go talk to the FIRM's Shrink when I get back. The drugging I can handle – I don't remember too much of it anyway – but the torture, that's a different story."

Nelson flicked a quick look across at his Captain, he was sure that Lee would remember all of it whether he wanted to or not. "Think you'll be able to come to terms with it?" he asked softly.

"Unfortunately, I believe it comes with the territory, Admiral," Sparrow smiled tautly. She looked across at Lee, "I know that men find it hard to talk about these things, but if you ever need to talk to someone, there's a person I know who helped me. And best of all, there's no paper trail."

Lee's head came up and he managed a shy smile, "No paper trail?"

"You learn to play your cards very close to your chest when you do this kind of work," Deborah sighed, "so having someone to trust, and knowing that they won't betray what you've said to  _anyone_  else is vital." She took a sip of her coffee, "I have found over the years that too many people use our fears as leverage and that is no way for a therapist to behave."

"You've had that too?" Nelson remarked.

"Once or twice, yes," Sparrow regarded both men thoughtfully, "I had one Director who would routinely check psych reports from missions to see what the Field Officer had said during the wrap up session. She had a habit of routinely shaming the agents under her command. And since most Field Officers don't open up easily anyway this behaviour just made the Intelligence Officers under her, less able to trust her. So when disaster struck-" She left the rest of the sentence unspoken and both men regarded her compassionately.

"Was this the group of agents you worked with ten years ago?" Nelson asked.

"No, that was one of the best Networks I was ever part of. That went wrong because of a Terminal Betrayal from an Asset we trusted. It led to the death of a good person and the complete mental collapse of another. The person who had started the Network never really recovered – she blamed herself for that Officer's capture and subsequent death and the breakdown of the other. Then one of my friends became seriously ill with an atrial myxoma – and had to leave FIRM. The remainder of us got shunted to other agencies, I didn't see Michael until about three years ago." She smiled, "and I can tell that he's definitely  _persona non grata_  aboard this boat."

Nelson grimaced, "Long story."

Deborah nodded, realizing that this was neither the time or place to pry into Nelson's loathing of this man. "Archangel and I get along because we see the world the same way. And although Archangel will never admit his gratitude, I am glad that your Captain was there."

"You're very kind, Deborah." Nelson replied.

The door opened again and the Chef came in carrying plates, "Enjoy," he ordered, "and you've Miss Bellamy's Lemon Meringue Pie for dessert."

She turned and flashed him a quick smile, "You trust me not to poison you?"

"Absolutely," he grinned back.

They ate in companionable silence, and both Nelson and Crane were glad to see that Deborah seemed more relaxed. Eventually, Nelson poured them all coffee and then sat back in his seat, "Briggs arrives tomorrow. He wants to take your interrogator and you back to Langley."

"And the tape of the interrogation?" At Nelson's scowl she smiled, "yeah, thought so. Oh well, these things happen. But you're not happy."

"I feel like we did all that work and rescued you for nothing."

"I'm afraid the world we live in means we make deals with creatures that live at the bottom of wells," Deborah replied.

"More like the bottom of sewers," Nelson grumbled.

"I know," Deborah sighed, "but as I said to your Captain, I do what I do because I'm good at it. And you didn't rescue me for nothing – I'm  _very_  glad you were there." Her voice caught and Nelson's head came up.

"Are you all right?" he asked solicitously.

Deborah nodded, swallowing hard against encroaching tears, "Yeah. As I said, I think I'll need to go and talk with someone once I'm on the mainland."

Nelson nodded, "You've a lot of courage."

"No, I was brought up to realize that reaction to torture is not weakness; self-care is  _not_  selfishness, nor is it betrayal," she regarded Nelson thoughtfully. "If it helps any I won't mention this conversation to Briggs. He would see it as weakness I suspect."

Crane nodded, "Yeah. You're probably right." He smiled, "I don't suppose you have any training in psychology?"

"No," Deborah replied, "I'll leave this lady's card with you, Captain. And now I think, bed."

"She's quite a lady, isn't she, Lee," Nelson remarked thoughtfully, when they were alone. "Bright. Courageous. Confident."

"Archangel will bring her down to his level eventually," Crane sighed, fingering the card she'd left with him.

"Somehow I doubt that," Nelson replied. "Have you noticed how mentally strong these two women we've met are? Krysia and Deborah. I'd like to meet the person that recruited them."

"I'd like to meet the person that trained them," Crane replied.

"That too." Nelson replied, "I suspect that they're quite something."

Deborah thanked her escort and then changing into the pyjamas clambered into the bunk. She was still concerned about her ability to sleep, but for whatever reason, the gut-clenching claustrophobia had eased. Snuggling beneath the blankets she was wondering if she could get Chief Masterson to show her how to make French toast and then she was asleep.

Forty minutes later her door opened quietly and Captain Crane poked his head into the room. Seeing that she was deep in slumber he closed the door and left her alone. Walking up the corridor he came face to face with Dr Jamieson. "Still checking up on my patient?" Jamie asked wryly.

"Just keeping the safety of my boat paramount," Lee replied.

"I know, Captain. She's never going to be completely comfortable you know," Jamie replied.

"It's a miracle she didn't completely break down," Lee sighed, "brave young lady to admit she had a problem."

"Confident young lady," Jamie replied, "whatever else Briggs does to these young women, I hope that he doesn't break them."

Lee thought back to the conversation he'd had in the officer's mess and smiled, "No, I think that's the reason Briggs chose them. Their inner strength is something he can push against, and they'll push back. I'm almost jealous."

"Only almost?" Dr Jamieson canted his head and Lee laughed, "all right. I'm very jealous. Both she and Krysia have something I find very attractive."

"Yes." Jamie smiled,  _You would not choose a weak partner, Captain_. He smiled.  _She's out there, Captain, but I don't think it's this little bird._  "We'll be saying goodbye to her in a day or so, Captain."

"Yes," Lee looked thoughtful, "I hope Briggs treats her properly."

"I think you need have no fear of that," Jamie replied, "she's no milk and water lass."

"No. Neither she nor Selket." Lee turned and began walking towards the missile room, "I wonder how many more of these young women are out there. It would be interesting to find out."

"Perhaps we will one day, Captain," Jamie replied.

The meeting with Briggs the following day was somewhat strained. He'd sat in the nose with Admiral Nelson in stony silence while Deborah packed her things and submitted to a final checkup from Doctor Jamieson. He smiled at her as she shrugged back into her blouse. "Those injuries should heal with time, Miss Bellamy. I trust that Briggs will give you that time?"

"Yes, Sir, I think so," Deborah smiled.

"Your own physician should examine these injuries in two or three days," Jamie smiled, "but I'm afraid there may be scarring."

"Yes," Deborah sighed, "comes with the territory."

"Any man who sees those scars should consider them badges of honour," another voice said quietly. Surprised, she looked up into the face of Captain Crane and felt herself blush, "Should you be here?" she asked.

"I thought you might like a friend to escort you to the nose," he said firmly.

"That would be nice, Captain," Deborah looked up at him, his face still had a taut, tense look. As they moved out of sickbay she did something she would never normally dare, she laid a hand on his arm and spoke, "go and talk with someone, Captain. You had to witness my torture."

"I'm an ONI operative myself, I should be able to handle it," he replied tersely, pulling his arm away.

"For yourself, yes. For another person under your command, very probably. For a young woman subjected to torture for no other reason than to make you talk, perhaps not." She regarded him quietly, "will you consider it, Sir?"

He looked down at her and saw something in the hazel eyes, "All right. I'll consider it."

Briggs stood up when she entered the room, "Good afternoon, Sparrow. Lucky the  _Seaview_  was on hand."

"I don't think it was all luck, Sir." She replied, shaking his hand.

"Perhaps not. It was unfortunate that your interrogation was interrupted before further information could be extracted from you."

"Yes, perhaps," Deborah looked thoughtful, "but perhaps it could be leaked that there is more information that has not yet been released."

"Yes." Briggs replied, "it might even bring some spies out of the woodwork. Good thinking, Sparrow. Now are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Sir." She stood up and turned to the two men. "It has been a pleasure, gentlemen. I hope to see you again in better circumstances."

"Have you brought that man up from the Brig?" Archangel asked.

"He's outside with the Master Chief," Crane replied tersely. He looked down at the young woman, "Look after yourself," he ordered.

"I could say the same of you, Sir," she grinned and then turned to the Admiral. "Thank you. I haven't the words to express my gratitude-" To her surprise Nelson hugged her fiercely, cutting off her voice.

"Be careful," he ordered, and then he bent so that his lips were very close to her ear and murmured, "Don't let Briggs break you."

"I won't Admiral," she replied and then he'd released her pink and gasping onto the deck.

"Such emotion," Archangel said drily, "I'd never have expected it from  _you_ , Harry."

"Pity those who don't feel anything at all," Nelson responded in the same tone. He looked down at Deborah. "Any time you want a change of profession, come and see me. You know where to find me."

"Yes, Admiral," Deborah replied.

"Come along, Sparrow," Archangel interjected. "We must be going – Time waits for no-one."

"No, Sir." She flashed them a quick, tight, smile and then she was following Archangel down the gangway. The crew watched as she climbed the ladder to the turret and heard the hatch closing.

"Interesting lady, don't you think?" Nelson turned to his Captain.

"That's an understatement, Sir," Lee replied. "Think we'll see her again?"

"Who knows, Captain, who knows." Nelson clapped his friend on the shoulder, "let's get home."

**END**


End file.
